


Impostor

by Kaiyou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, first year of high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: Seijou Volleyball Club. The thought of being able to stand on that court - it seemed what Hanamaki should ever hope to expect, and yet here he was, about to walk into the gym. But still, he couldn't shake the thought - did he really belong here?





	Impostor

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece for the wonderful Seijou 3rd Years Zine :)

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

That was what the voice in Takahiro’s head kept telling him. His school had barely made it past the second round at the Junior High athletics meet. Sure, he’d been a relatively strong player and had made a few lucky spikes in the tournament, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough to carry them on past the third round.

It had been enough to catch the attention of one Nobuteru Irihata. 

Staring down at his hands, Takahiro curled them into fists and then spread them out again, terrified he wouldn’t meet his new coach’s expectations.

Then again, it wasn’t like there wouldn’t be other players for the coach to pick from. 

Standing just outside the gym doorway, Takahiro stared across the court at the boy with the wavy brown hair. He remembered him. Oikawa Tooru, best setter in the prefecture. 

It made him glad that he wasn’t a setter. There was no way he could ever compete. Oikawa was flawless. Ambitious. Powerful.

How was he supposed stand on the court with that?

And then there was -

“Hey, you’re blocking the doorway.”

“Ah, sorry,” Takahiro said, scared he’d offended a senpai. When he turned to look, however, the boy behind him seemed to be about his age, with unruly black hair and bushy black eyebrows.

“Not a problem, but they won’t let us play if we don’t go in. Ah, I’m Matsukawa Issei, first year.”

“Matsu - ah, I mean, I’m Hanamaki Takahiro. Also a first year. Please take care of me.”

“Ok,” Matsukawa said, mouth curling up in a lazy grin.

It made Takahiro laugh out loud, feeling a layer of nervousness break into pieces at the other boy’s smile. “Thanks.”

“What’cha lookin at, anyway? Oh, that one. I’ve heard about him. Oikawa something, right?”

“Tooru,” Takahiro murmured, looking back at the court. “You haven’t seen him before?”

“Nah, just moved here from Osaka. Dad got a promotion or something. Never knew volleyball was so big up here too - it’s everywhere back home.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Go Blazers.”

Laughing, Takahiro said, “I’ve never seen a professional match. Just junior high and high school. The best game I’ve seen was the one they played against Shiratorizawa last year, though.”

“Oh yeah? Oikawa and - who’s that with him?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Takahiro replied. That boy with the spiky hair, right there - the one yelling at Oikawa - that was the one that Takahiro would be compared to. Measured by. Judged against. “He’s another wing spiker. They’ve been playing together since they were kids.”

Matsukawa made a little humming noise in the back of his throat. “Another, eh?”

“Ah well - yeah - that’s what I’m supposed to play, too.”

The dark eyes that turned to focus on Takahiro made him feel suddenly nervous, and he tried not to let it show.

Matsukawa said, “I’m a middle blocker. Not the best, yet, but I think I’ll be good with some more practice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah - here - come on.”

Takahiro’s heart lept into his chest as Matsukawa tugged on his sleeve, starting off toward the two they’d been observing.

“Wait - ah -”

“They’re our teammates, right? Might as well get off on the right foot.”

No, wait - Takahiro wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready. A part of him just wanted to run and hide in the bathroom until his stomach felt like it was time to return to earth - but before he knew it they were standing in front of two of the best players in the prefecture.

If Matsukawa’s gaze had made him feel nervous, Oikawa’s gaze made him feel like a rabbit who had caught the eye of a hungry wolf.

“I’ve seen you before,” Oikawa said, lips pursing before he turned to Matsukawa. “Don’t know you though.”

“I’m Matsukawa Issei. Just moved here. Played middle blocker at Tsukisu in Sakai.”

Matsukawa seemed so calm. Maybe Tsukisu had a good volleyball club. Maybe Matsukawa was used being on the court with the winners instead of just hanging over the railings to try and watch them play. 

Maybe Matsukawa was supposed to be here.

“Nice to meet you,” Oikawa said, smiling the billboard-fantastic smile that Takahiro had watched him flash at local reporters at the tournament. “I’m Oikawa Tooru, and this is -”

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Iwaizumi said, brow furrowing as he looked at Oikawa.

Then everyone’s gaze was turned to Takahiro.

“Ah - I’m Hanamaki Takahiro,” he said, hands feeling sweaty. He wondered if wiping them on his shorts would give him away. “I’m a wing spiker.”

“Oh yeah!” Oikawa said, turning that thousand-watt smile on Takahiro. “I remember! You did well in that game against - who was it again? Ah, it doesn’t matter, we beat them. But yeah! You ‘re a good wing spiker. Of course, with me setting for you, you’ll be great - which will be nice in case Iwa-chan flakes on me.”

“Hey! Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi growled.

Takahiro felt a laugh being forced out of him like he’d been punched in the gut. “Good. Ah, great. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Matsukawa and Hanamaki,” Oikawa mused, tapping his lip with a finger. “Aha! I got it! Mattsun and Makki!”

“What?” Matsukawa asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah! Mattsun and Makki. The four of us are going to stick together now, ya hear?”

“Hey, don’t just go deciding things all on your own, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi said, scowling at Oikawa before turning to Matsukawa and Takahiro. “Ignore him if you want, he’s just -”

“Aww, Iwa-chan!”

“I said shut up with that nickname here!” growled Iwaizumi. 

Takahiro noticed a couple of spots of color in the other boy’s cheeks and blinked, looking from Iwaizumi to Oikawa and back. 

“Sticking together sounds fine by me,” Matsukawa said. “After all, I just moved here, and I don’t yet know if Makki’s mom makes a good bento or not.”

“Eh?” Takahiro asked, coughing as Matsukawa pat him hard on the back. “Er, I mean - yeah - that sounds fine to me too, ah -”

“Great! That settles it. We’ll stick together and show the coaches that we’re starter material no matter who our senpai are.”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi hissed, glancing over at the third-years practicing on the other side of the court.

Oikawa looked over, standing up tall and narrowing his eyes at the other players. “We’ll be better than them, Iwaizumi,” he murmured. “You know it, they know it, and the coaches know it. Together we’ll rebuild this team, beat those Shiratorizawa bastards, and take the school to nationals.”

“Yeah?” Matsukawa asked, raising an eyebrow.

Refocusing his gaze on Matsukawa, Oikawa nodded, eyes glinting. “Yeah.”

“Ok,” said Matsukawa. “I’m in.”

And suddenly, Takahiro felt like he was in too.

“Good,” said Oikawa, giving them a smile that was a little warmer, a little softer than his Made-for-TV smirk. “Oh look - I think we have more first years to join our squad.”

Looking at the entrance, Takahiro saw three boys falling into the gym, looking as nervous and excited as Takahiro had felt when he first stepped into the room. He didn’t recognize any of them. It didn’t matter, though. He was pretty sure it didn’t matter.

Whoever they were, they were a part of his team now. Oikawa’s team.

Taking a breath, Takahiro realized that the tightness in his chest had eased. 

“Ready?” Matsukawa asked, raising an eyebrow. His lips were curled up just a bit.

Takahiro nodded, returning the sly grin. “Yeah,” he muttered, not minding when Oikawa brushed past him on the way to greet the new first-years. “Ready-ready.”

“Good-good,” said Matsukawa, grin widening.

Chuckling, Takahiro nodded, turning to follow Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

This, right here, was exactly where he belonged.


End file.
